


Bittersweet: Shadows Of A Day To Come

by reiette



Category: Shin Megami Tensei Series, 真女神転生IV FINAL | Shin Megami Tensei IV: Apocalypse
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Extended Scene, M/M, Scene Rewrite, Slow Burn, very minimal- just a battle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 21:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11632770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reiette/pseuds/reiette
Summary: Everything is crumbling to ruin as the weight of the world is placed on a 15-year-old's shoulders, and he doesn't know if he's ready for it.





	Bittersweet: Shadows Of A Day To Come

_Crack._

It’s not a pleasant sound. Rather, it’s a crushing, _sickening_ noise that gives the sinking feeling that what was broken should not have been. Shortly after, the atmosphere is heavy with a muted scream, too far in the distance to be identified as human.

They freeze.

“What… _was_ that?” The boy’s bright blue eyes go dark with worry as he runs his fingers through his slightly greasy grey hair. Then, he’s quickly bringing his hand down near their leader’s ear, cupping it ever so slightly, as he asks a question, significantly quieter, as if he was afraid of someone, or some _thing_ listening in, “...should you--I mean we--go check it out?” Hallelujah’s voice is laced with fear and uncertainty; he knows what this is–the only thing this _could_ be, and he knows it’s their job to check it out.

Nanashi can hardly say he understands, being dead and reborn had a heart-hardening effect on him, but he wants to make sure he uses the second life he’s been granted for _good_ while he still can. Who knows what Dagda had in mind for the future—Nanashi’s sure he doesn’t want to see it. He looks down at Hallelujah running his long nails through his hair, only now noticing the matching shade of grey they were. In fact, they match with almost everything he has on: his suit, his slacks, and his dress shoes. The bright yellow sweatshirt thrown on top sticks out like a sore thumb in comparison; Nanashi could never understand why Hallelujah dressed like that. Shaking the distracting thoughts away, slowly, he responds, “We have to.”

Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, jutting out his hip, Nanashi adds, “Even if they think we’ve turned traitor, we’re still hunters.” Nanashi knows Hallelujah’s worry revolves around the utterly disgusting inhumane sound they heard, but chose to assuage his own worries instead. Selfish. That’s what being revived has made him. He bites his lip.

A light but strong voice pierces the silence from behind them both, “I agree with Nanashi. We’re still hunters; we’ve gotta help!” Walking up to him and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, she manages to smile & proclaims “Onward!” while pointing to the door enthusiastically. Once the rest have filed out, Asahi speaks, with a hand still on Nanashi’s shoulder, but doesn’t turn her head towards Nanashi’s blatant expression of confusion, instead settling on a squeeze of his shoulder through her already tight grip. Her voice, somehow softer, almost imperceptibly melancholy, pushes through, heavy with emotion “You really haven’t changed… you’re still you.” Loosening her grip on his shoulder, still without sparing him a glance, she drops her gloved hands to his, and laces their fingers together. Finally she turns & flashes him a smile filled to the brim with her own piece of happiness, “C’mon, ‘leader,’ we gotta go!” & she pulls him right through the door.

* * *

There is an apparent change in the atmosphere of the underground. Shinjuku was known to be a central hub of activity in the past, even now it was bigger than the other underground districts. But the once upbeat vibe of this subterranean city is traded for a tense atmosphere that chokes anyone who happens upon it: blood spattered across the walls, bodies littered across the ground.

Asahi lets go.

Hallelujah’s throat tightens to see the girl that they had just been talking to mere hours ago, now laying lifeless, a casualty on the ground. He steps along over to Nanashi, who has taken the lead, signaling to them to follow down Shinjuku’s long corridor. From Nanashi’s grave expression, Hallelujah surmises that the sound originated close by, and readies to summon his demons.

“Shit…” It’s uttered softly, unintelligibly, under his breath. He almost forgot: the summoning program is blocked. Protecting themselves is going to prove difficult, and he doesn’t want to burden Nanashi with the extra responsibility. _The boy’s already got the weight of the damn world on his shoulders..._

They can’t go on like this: _Gods and demons and angels._ Add humans into the mix and you create a post-apocalyptic society, striving to live just one more day. Something has to give. They’re all ruminating on the same thought, their spirits down, their backs hunched over; through their minds’ eyes, they’re interconnected in the hopeless thought that Tokyo just might not be able to survive. Almost physically tied together, they’re resonating—closer than they’ve been before, bonding by the sole aspect that ties them all together, they’re all humans fighting for a land that was never theirs, in a place where they don’t belong.

That resonance is _shattered_ as a plea for help from not too far away reaches their ears, “Stay away! Don’t come near me!” The man’s voice is wrecked; fear is etched into the wrinkles at the sides of his eyes, eyebrows lifted, arm raised, creating a barrier between him and the demon, bracing for the inevitable impact. He’s helpless.

“Fear not. _Salvation_ will set you free.” Several demons are approaching the man, cornering him as they ready to pounce.

Before anyone else can break out of their momentary hesitation, Nozomi’s voice rapidly fills the silence as she gets right up in the demons’ faces, “Set ‘im free, huh? Think maybe you’re comin’ on a li’l strong?” Her voice is lined with scorn, and her stance exudes power, but the demons take no note of her, instead preferring to set eyes on a certain green-eyed boy.

“It’s you…”

For a fraction of a second, Nanashi scrunches up his nose, visibly showing his disgust. He knows exactly what the demons are talking about. Sliding out his smartphone, Nanashi steels his resolve, breathes in, and is just about ready to summon his demons when––

“You’re hunters right? Please, help!” The man is sobbing, scared to death. _Figures._ He probably thought the underground was supposed to be _safe_ . _Pfft. Nowhere’s “safe” anymore._ It may be cynical, but it’s true. Nanashi had fostered a bleak outlook on life, but because life had never promised him much—he never had much to expect from it. He thinks most people in Tokyo have been like that since _God’s Plan,_ but for some bizarre reason, they still think that they have a fighting chance. He guesses it’s because of Flynn. But just because they have a fighting chance as a _species,_ doesn’t meant that every human would _survive_. And that’s simply the reality they have to face.

He can try though. He could always try. Protecting lives was a hunter’s _job_ , and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t even _try._

The demons babble on, revealing that the Divine Powers are behind the malfunction of the summoning program, and that they have _no idea_ Nanashi can still summon demons. A wicked smirk overtakes his features— _this is gonna be fun._ Summoning Ishtar, Nanashi tells her to concentrate her fire for a later time, as he summons Nebiros—the necromancer—to strengthen the team’s magic, allowing for a devastating spell. _Fuck you,_ he thinks, as they take the hit. Quickly, the opposing Pachacamac puts up a wall for physical attacks. _No matter,_ Nanashi isn’t bothered, he just has to hold back his punches this time. The Mushussu on the left follows up with an electric attack, which Nanashi ducks out of the way to avoid, as Ishtar blocks the brunt of it, giving Nebiros opening to unleash his most powerful almighty spell, effectively finishing them off. _Piece of cake_ , he thinks. And it’s true—he must be getting stronger by the day to slaughter those opponents so easily, without receiving even a scratch himself.

Nanashi taps the tip of his boot to the ground, clicking his tongue in a display of nonchalance in the face of such a striking win, as he saunters toward the civilian. The man is grateful, but can’t seem to shake the thought of what would happen if someone with this boy’s power was working with the other side. Dispelling such blasphemous thoughts, the man manages to choke out a “thank you” earning a curt nod from Nanashi, who bends over to help him up from his spot on the ground.

Asahi walks up to Nanashi, breathing out a sigh as she puts her hand up to her forehead. “Okay, not being able to summon demons kinda sucks,” Asahi’s exhaustion echoes throughout the rest of the team. All of them, with the exception of their leader Nanashi, are affected.

Amidst the group’s laments, the middle-aged man pipes up, “...there’s a lot more of ‘em down in the underground district.” Fragile from crying, his voice cracks a few times as he chokes out the sentence. No one can quite decipher the weight of the situation at this moment, but everyone realizes it’s dire.

Nanashi begins to wonder how they’ll manage when the only active demon summoner in their squad, hell, in all of Tokyo, is him. That makes him incredibly powerful.

Unwanted thoughts start to creep up to him, tainting his mindspace, tempting him. It would be so easy to just lift a finger and take over Tokyo like this—but he’s getting ahead of himself. He’s not strong enough—not yet—to face the wrath of Tokyo & it’s people. It’s a pity, for someone with so much potential, he’s not honing it as he should be. Dagda’s voice comes through to him, _for now, just focus on your objective, kid._ Right. They have to get moving.

Hallelujah’s panicked voice snaps Nanashi out of his stupor. “Guys, what’s the plan here? We _can’t_ handle this without our demons.” Even with his demons, Hallelujah concedes he wouldn’t be of much help, it wouldn’t be _him_ Nanashi would rely on, but if someone, _anyone_ could lift even an ounce of weight of his shoulders, he knows it would be better than nothing. _( But it can’t be him. Never in a million years would he jeopardize the sense of belonging his team brings him. )_ Their leader burdens himself too much; he keeps them all at arm’s length from him, leaving a shroud of mystery surrounding him.

Just as Nanashi begins to consider the predicament once more, a feminine voice, even-tempered as always, regal yet humble, cleanly cuts right through his thoughts. “Are you alright?” Of course Isabeau’s here. The overachieving, benevolent samurai always rushed at the very onset of trouble. Left without her demons, she seems to have gathered quite the crowd to aid her expedition.

Asahi practically jumps for joy at the sight, unable to restrain her enthusiasm for “Miss Isabeau,” and Nanashi makes a mental note to tease her about this later. Throughout the exchange, only one thing stands out to him: Isabeau’s mention of never being able to “sit idly by while innocents are attacked,” & from that, he knows he gets only a glimpse of her deep devotion, her strong moral compass and sense of duty. And he’s dumbfounded; he immediately can tell it runs deeper than his own.

He admires it.

But it’s the samurai’s next words that really grab his attention, “Demons have infiltrated the underground district in Kinshicho.” His grip on his sword tightens the slightest bit, and his serious expression belie one subdued emotion: fear. Just a tad, sprinkled on top of his apathy, but looking over to Asahi, she seems entirely unaffected, like her concentration is elsewhere. Like her father could never fall. Nanashi knows she loves her father dearly, and is momentarily confused at how put-together she is, how well she keeps her composure and livelihood. As a God’s puppet, he could throw his life away and it wouldn’t matter, he could be revived countless times, but Asahi and her dad—they’re different. They are intrinsically mortal, however special they may be.

Isabeau, remaining mindful of the sensitive waters she treads on, added deliberately, “Your father’s in Kinshicho, right? You should hurry there.” Her strong voice carries through the air, and the team pays full attention to their great uniter in the center of the hallway. Her presence is immense–almost overwhelming–and her warning absolute.

Nanashi is lost in his thoughts, temporarily paralyzed, when already, his entire squad is already offering help, promising to never leave him or his family behind. And…

Nanashi doesn’t know how to react. He’s never had this sense of family that his team brought him. A warm sense of caring he had been denied during childhood — picked off the streets as an orphan by the only family he ever knew: Asahi & her father. And, because of that, he had to move forward. “Onwards then, to Kinshicho,” the determination & anger in his voice was nearly palpable to all of his teammates, not quite shocking them, but impressing them that a 15-year-old could possess such emotional maturity. Little did they know that he was collapsing on the inside as the burden of life slowly tore him apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the quotes are from the corresponding scene in SMT:IVA, except Nanashi's, since he barely has canon quotes.
> 
> Nanashi's relationship with Hallelujah will be explored in later chapters, because it's a slow burn & that's how these things work.


End file.
